Hogwarts magic is justice

Chapter 129 Dumbledore: I am indeed old

As the city, reduced to a wasteland, fell back to the ground, Owen's expression didn't change much. He had always been dedicated to familiarizing wizards with Muggle technology, but he didn't want them to take on Muggle problems because of their different social relationships. Conflicts between wizards could lead to wizard duels.

A conflict has broken out among Muggles—which could potentially escalate into war.

If the wizarding world were to find out about a scene like today, it would definitely cause a frenzy. Not only would it drive wizards further away from the Muggle world, but it would also create a serious sense of crisis in the hearts of many people.

Those with weaker abilities may not have a strong sense of crisis, but those with stronger abilities—there might be a second, a third, or even more Grindelwalds. At that time, Owen wouldn't even be able to defend against aliens; he'd be too busy dealing with the messy affairs of the magical world to even think about.

Owen hadn't seen Ultron's fate, nor did he want to know. Just as he was about to turn and leave, Stark suddenly flew over and grabbed his wizard's robe: "Owen, don't rush off. I think we need to talk."

Sitting on the sofa, Owen downed the milk in his glass in one gulp, then calmly looked at the person opposite him and said, "Mr. Stark, didn't we say we wanted to talk? If you haven't made up your mind, I think we can postpone this conversation until next time. I have a lot of things to do."

After a long while, Stark suddenly let out a long sigh: "It's like this, I—"

After listening to a long story, Owen finally got to the point. He then reached out and pulled Stark's head aside, looking at the dark veins on his neck, and chuckled softly, "So that's what it is. Next time, just say it directly. Why go through all that trouble?"

Before Stark could react, Owen pulled open his shirt, looked at his chest, pondered for a moment, and said, "How about I just heal your body too?"

Without giving Stark a chance to refuse, he reached out and pulled the glowing "light bulb" out of his chest. Looking at Iron Man, who had instantly fallen into a weakened state, he chuckled and said, "Take a rest first. You'll feel completely refreshed after you wake up."

Stark slowly closed his eyes, and when he woke up again, it was the next day.

He touched his chest and the cold, hard light bulb was gone, as was the hole in his chest. He pulled up his clothes and saw that the area where he was injured had been healed, except that there was no chest hair in that area, and the skin was a newly grown pink color.

Looking again at the veins on his neck, the dark patch was gone. He went to his lab and had Jarvis take an X-ray. He found that the fine shrapnel scattered in his body had also disappeared completely.

Is this what a wizard is?

In just one night, no, it probably didn't even take that long, and he recovered from his illness.

"Jarvis, what time did Irving leave yesterday?"

"Sir, the guest disappeared suddenly at 13:26 PM yesterday."

It only took 26 minutes?

Did Kyrie Irving record the treatment I received?

"Yes, sir."

"Play".

A virtual screen rose up, and the events of yesterday were gradually replayed before Stark's eyes:

After "pulling out the light bulb" and losing consciousness, Owen simply flicked his wrist across his chest, and some black blood flew out of his chest, spun around, and then flew into the trash can.

Then Irving pulled two bottles from his pocket, one emitting a pale blue light, and the other that—

Black that radiates iridescent light.

Irving first poured the black medicine onto the wound on his chest, while the blue one was forced into his mouth.

Upon seeing this, Stark suddenly clicked his tongue. To be honest, he was not fully conscious at the time, and he really didn't know what the medicine tasted like.

After finishing the two bottles of medicine, Owen stopped, turned to the camera, and said, "Mr. Stark, I've healed your wounds and the minor poisons you were given. I'll head back now. Oh, and I'll send you an owl when I get back. If you want to write to me, just let it deliver the message. Please don't go and catch any other owls."

After saying that, Irving vanished from the spot in an instant.

Jarvis couldn't be sure if he had left, so it could only be described as "disappeared," because it hadn't detected any of Irving's vital signs from beginning to end.

Stark breathed a long sigh of relief. No matter what, he owed Owen a favor, but he couldn't find anyone to repay him.

Fortunately, in less than three days, a large owl landed on his window, its big eyes staring at him, and then it made a "coo" sound.

If Irving were here, he would definitely translate the messenger's question for him: Isn't this a Muggle? What do you need a messenger for?

Fortunately, Stark knew a little about the market. He immediately took out a handful of the imported cat food he had bought beforehand and placed it in front of the owl, only to be met with a pair of bird-like eyes that looked at him like he was an idiot.

Stark glanced at it and noticed a letter on the messenger's leg. He quickly took it out and looked at it; it was the owl's care instructions, one of which was about the messenger's diet.

It can be fresh meat strips or various nuts, but there is no cat food inside, regardless of whether it is imported or not.

After a flurry of activity, Stark finally breathed a long sigh of relief as he watched the owl begin to eat. He had never kept any pets before.

After the sudden silence, he thought for a moment, finally found paper and pen, and began writing a letter to Irving.

Meanwhile, in England, after Owen returned to the castle, he finally freed the old wizard. He no longer had to sit in his office all day signing various documents. He could finally walk out of the castle with his hands behind his back, stroll along the Black Lake and the Forbidden Forest, and when he got tired, he could drink a cup of black tea with five sugar cubes in the newly built back garden by the students.

Just as he took a sip of tea, before the sweetness could even fully develop, he suddenly saw the fire dragon statues in the garden, and the old wizard instantly transformed into a showerhead: "Pfft!"

He recognized this thing very well!

Back during the Triwizard Tournament, Owen tricked—no, borrowed—more than a dozen fire dragons from the protected area. To hide them, Owen turned them into statues temporarily, thus fooling Karkaroff and his team.

Why are you back now?

When he put down his teacup and walked around the statue, he realized that these were not hidden fire dragons, but simply sculptures by students. Below the statue, there were the names of the artists, the dates of their work, and the departments they belonged to.

One of them was Cedric's work. The old wizard still remembered this outstanding young man. After graduating, he joined the Ministry of Magic. Instead of taking over his father's job, he started as an Auror and became the head of the Finnish branch in less than three months. Now, he has returned to England and is the director of the External Relations Office.

When he was the mascot of the Ministry of Magic, they encountered this outstanding young man quite often, and he still held him in high esteem. In fact, in recent years, graduating students would address him as "Headmaster" instead of "Dumbledore" when they met him.

The old wizard sat down again, then closed his eyes and took a sip of tea with a sense of peace. He was extremely satisfied with his current life.

He brought Irving to Green back then. Did he really not worry that Irving would be led astray?

No, he's afraid!

But he was confident that even if things went astray, he could get them back on track, so he only set a six-month timeframe. However, Irving himself proved himself; he had his own beliefs and was not influenced by anyone.

In retrospect, Owen was right. The British wizarding world and schools are now much better. Even if some of his ideas are not accepted by the Wizarding Federation, the old men and women don't make things difficult for him; they just stand by and watch.

After having some tea, the old wizard felt a pang of conscience and wanted to go back and help Owen with some documents. But when he entered the room, he discovered that Owen wasn't signing with a quill pen, but rather—stamping his seal?

"Darling, what's wrong with you—"

"This is a signature stamp I made myself. It's very convenient for some less important documents; just stick it on. What's up? Is there something you need?"

"No—it's nothing—"

"Let's go eat together then. Perfect timing, I've finished everything."

Walking along the familiar road, the old wizard fell silent for a moment.

He always said he was an old man, but deep down he didn't accept being old at all. But now, he suddenly felt old.

He was stuck in his office with piles of documents, from dawn till dusk, with meals delivered to him. But what about Irving? In just one morning, he processed documents that would have taken him a whole day, and still had time to have lunch in the auditorium. He also had the energy to check on the students' progress and answer all sorts of questions.

Hearing the students repeatedly addressing him as "Headmaster," the old wizard suddenly laughed: "My dear, if I were to retire now, who do you think would be the most suitable person to take over as headmaster?"

"Mama McGonagall is the most suitable."

Owen answered quickly, as if he had known he would ask that question and already had the answer in his mind, but this answer surprised the old wizard: "I thought you would say that you came."

"It's not the right time yet. I have too many chores to do and can't stay in the castle for long. It's most suitable for me to become the principal after the outside world has become completely quiet."

The old wizard's face turned slightly red.

Irving understood what he meant: the reason he wasn't going to immediately take over as principal and become the youngest principal in history was because he couldn't stay at the school for long.

McGonagall—the old wizard thought for a moment, then nodded and said, “Alright, I will submit this matter to the board of directors as soon as possible.”

Owen stopped eating and looked at the old wizard seriously, saying, "I bought a manor in Yorkshire. You can stay there; your room has already been prepared."

The old wizard suddenly laughed: "Besides my room, whose is it?"

"Mother McGonagall's, Uncle Snape's, Aunt Sprout's, Uncle Flitwick's, Mr. Green's, Mr. Newt and Mrs. Tina's, Master Nico and his wife's—"

With each name Owen called out, the old wizard's smile widened, until Owen announced that everyone could have a barbecue at the manor during the holidays. At that moment, he couldn't help but laugh out loud: "Good, very good, dear, you did a really good job."

Owen gave the old wizard a smile, but a pang of sadness lingered in his heart.

He would never forget that it was Dumbledore who brought him from the Ministry of Magic to Hogwarts and always gave him the greatest freedom and trust. Without his support, there were many things he could not do.

Hogwarts had long been a second home to him. The professors were like elders, and the students were like younger brothers and sisters. The reason he made a series of arrangements against Voldemort was simply because he realized that the old wizard's plan was somewhat dangerous. Although he didn't show it, he did want to use his own life as bait.

This is unacceptable to Irving!

That's why he kept planning ahead and took advantage of the situation to eliminate Voldemort.

The current environment is something he has spent ten years creating, and anyone who tries to disrupt it is his enemy!

They thought that no one would dare to cause trouble during this time, but when the Daily Prophet came out the next day, Owen suddenly narrowed his eyes, and the murderous aura emanating from him made the professors sitting next to him turn their heads.

Professor McGonagall asked, "Darling, what happened?"

Irving didn't speak, but handed her the newspaper. Professor McGonagall glanced at it, then frowned and said, "Rehha Goode? That name—"

"Rehha Goode, born in 1499, was hanged in 1524 after he caused the Third Muggle Riot by harming too many Muggles, which led to another Muggle revolt against wizards."

This is a record in the history of magic, which Owen remembers very clearly. He also knows something not recorded in the history of magic: a sentence this person uttered before his torture.

I will return, at the most unexpected time, when the wizards' path is about to come to an end, and then I will return once more!

Now there's a news item in the newspaper that's related to Reihar Goode, saying that this ancient wizard has been resurrected and is going to lead the wizards onto the right path.

As mentioned before, what Owen fears most isn't Voldemort, a idiot who only knows how to cause terror and destruction. What he worries about most is a political family like the old villain, who proposes a completely new idea, which then gains acceptance and leads to following.

This so-called "correct path" is a vague concept that allows people to make their own associations, which is extremely dangerous!

It needs to be nipped in the bud.